No Sé: The Quest to Learn Spanish Begins
For those of you that don’t know, a vast majority of the students I teach speak Spanish as their first language and English as their second. Some don’t speak English at all. Often, with newcomer students, or students with limited English, other students assist me with translating and getting directions across. With my exceptionally limited vocabulary and my almost nonexistent knowledge of grammar, I try my best.
This has always made me feel guilty; It feels unfair they have not only moved to an entirely new country, but the adult they are told to spend their entire day with can barely communicate with them. I am eternally grateful for the students who rise to the occasion and lend a hand, but I also recognized this year that I no longer want the narrative above to be my narrative.
The time I spent in South America during my year off and my trip to Guatemala in March both showed me I am capable of picking the language up if I put in effort and immerse myself a little bit. Through some introspection I came to recognize that my biggest barrier to learning was embarrassment; When I try to speak Spanish at home I am acutely aware of how poorly I communicate and pronounce words. This primarily comes from kids pointing it out, some when being helpful and others when being downright rude. It became clear to me that I needed a basic comprehension and speaking skill level to get over that hurdle and gain some confidence. Then, perhaps, would I be brave enough to speak with my colleagues and students in their primary language.
So began the plan to find a place over the summer that I could immerse and learn. I did a bunch of research, booked a flight and some language courses, and here we are: Oaxaca!
I landed at the worst time (at what point will I learn to spend the money to not have poorly timed flights?) and had to get from the airport to my host family’s house at 11:30 at night. Luckily, I’d been given my host, Paz’s, WhatsApp prior to arriving and she said a colectivo would be fine. I gave them the address, got shuttled around town as others got dropped off, and finally arrived at the gate of my home for the next two weeks.
I was greeted by a friendly older gentleman who introduced himself as Carlos, Paz’s husband. They showed me to my room, a large but simple space with a bed, fan, table, and a pretty killer built in closet/dresser and off to bed I went.
I woke up, wandered downstairs and was greeted by a blur of muscle, fur, and affection. I looked down and showing me more love than knew what to do with was a sweet boxer, I soon learned was Jelly.
Hearing the excited affection between Jelly and myself, a small being came around the corner and started to quietly, but rapidly speak in the most adorable Spanish I’ve ever heard. I caught a word here and there, but couldn’t understand her for the life of me. Part of the issue was that I was immensely overwhelmed with how stinking adorable this girl was with her large brown eyes framed by small pink glasses and her little Spider-Man pajama set.
I finally got that her name was Vanessa and she is four years old. Everything else was lost to me.
I sat at the table with three other guests, boys who were there to study abroad, and chatted a bit as we ate our breakfast of fruit and omelettes de hot dogs; I had so many questions, but just removed those and continued on eating.
During our chatting, Vanessa sauntered up to the table, placed herself between me and the boy next to me and handed me a red book. The cover read “Enciclopedia MEGA chiquitin.” She said something to me, basically in a whisper, which I asked her to repeat, and after a second time of not hearing her, Carlos told me that she was letting me borrow it to learn from. This girl, though tiny, was catching on real quick to how much work I needed to do.
It was Sunday, so I didn’t have class yet. That was to start on Monday, which meant I had the day to explore! My favorite! I had pinned a few things before I’d left, as usual, but also wanted to wander and see what I could find along the way. You stumble upon the best things that way.
I left and decided to take the route I’d take to school so I could time it and be able to better plan my mornings (tell me you’re type A without telling me you’re type A). This went out the window in a matter of minutes as I quickly learned that my route to school is littered with amazing street art. I lost count of how many times I stopped to appreciate, photograph, and stare, mouth agape at the detail and vibrancy of each piece. The walk was a gallery.
I eventually made it to school, recognizing I could easily shave off time but that I’d give myself some wiggle room each day so I could actually appreciate my walk.
Now that my only order of business was complete, it was wander time! Everyone was either in church or still sleeping and I LOVED it. I had the cobblestone streets to myself and the monuments and parks were peaceful. I soaked it in, knowing this was not common.
Everywhere I wandered I was amazed by how colorful everything is- the buildings, the art, the clothing. It made me start to question why as a collective we’re so boring at home in regard to our color palettes, particularly with our buildings. There’s such an infectious joy that comes with walking down the street and being surrounded by splashes of oranges, yellows, reds, pinks, and vibrant blues.
I stumbled upon an artisan market- one that wasn’t just your typical trinkets and clothing. Instead it was a myriad of local artists, many who carve and then print or who watercolor. I delighted at their skill, appreciating the many cat pieces and mushroom pieces. These were my people! One particularly skilled couple and I managed to have a somewhat broken, albeit exciting and heartwarming conversation about their work and skill sets. I was doing it! I was speaking Spanish! Ish.
I carried that high with me all over the city, finding a potential climbing gym, an abandoned feeling park to swing and play in, and somehow ending up high in the hills overlooking the city.
Somewhere in there I realized I needed to eat but had decision paralysis and just walked into somewhere that had what I thought was an easy grab-n-go mole filled pastry. But then a waitress asked if I wanted to stay and try some intriguing corn-based beverage and my easy grab-n-go plan was hijacked by my inability to say no.
Realistically the break was much needed, plus it gave me time to sit and learn from the book Vanessa gave me. I opened it to the first section and read, understanding bits, but needing translation for others. I felt a little ridiculous studying with what was clearly a children’s book in a restaurant, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
I know you’re probably wondering.. The corn beverage that got me to stay, which was mixed with mango, was light and refreshing. I don’t recall the name, lo siento, but it was the perfect pairing for my light reading.
That first day, I explored my little heart out, walking a whopping 11.5 miles. Carlos and I spent that evening chatting a bit more in both English and Spanish, which made me feel both positive and negative; he was sweet and I knew I was going to learn so much in my time here, but my lack of understanding made me rather anxious for school the next day.
After sleeping like the dead, I woke up for my first day of school and joined the boys for another egg and fruit breakfast, sin hot dogs. Vanessa sauntered up mid meal and handed me a new book with a pink cover that read “Valiente.” I thought it was the name of the girl on the front of book and opened it to read it. As I read, Carlos stood over my shoulder correcting my pronunciations and explaining the words I didn’t know (basically the whole book). It was about a girl who was afraid of many things, particularly social situations, and who had to remind herself to be brave. I didn’t get far in the story before needing to go, but my lack of understanding of a children’s book really had me determined as I set out for my first day of learning.
Along my walk, I appreciated the art from the day before and wondered about the exceptionally large beetles that looked a bit too much like cockroaches that littered the sidewalk. Unfortunately for them, most of the ones I saw were either dead or upside down and flailing, likely soon to have the same fate as their friends.
I made it to La Guarida, mi esquela, and was shown to my classroom. Two other students arrived shortly after, a 50 year old from Vermont named Douglas and a guy from DC in his mid-thirties whose name was Michael. Soon, Miguel, our maestro showed up and class began. I immediately felt very out of place, as Douglas was seemingly fluent already and Michael had the speaking part of Spanish pretty down. I, on the other hand, felt like a baby taking its first steps; I could put together a word or two at a time and was utterly lost as Douglas and Miguel chatted away. Though I’d taken a placement test before arriving, I clearly had been put in the wrong class… being good at test taking and deductive reasoning had done me zero favors here.
I made it through 3 hours of class, barely, understanding maybe half and quickly writing down word after word to look up later. Your girl had some work to do…
In addition to simply not having the vocabulary or grammar to keep up, my right ear was in a lot of pain all of class, making it harder to concentrate than normal. Concerned I had an untreated ear infection (it had been hurting for longer than I’d care to publicly admit), I asked my maestro how I could go about getting care. He explained that pharmacies here have doctors in them and you can see them for quite cheap. Skeptical, I went and asked the office woman’s advice. She pointed me in the direction of a hospital that they sent most students to.
Luckily, Monday was the one day in the week with no activities so I went and wandered to the hospital and used my broken English to get to a doctor. After waiting 15 minutes, she called me in and immediately told me I had to pay 800 pesos cash for seeing her regardless of if she could help or not. Not having that on hand, I bounced, going for Plan B, the alleged pharmacy doctors.
I’d been hoping to go climbing before my ear started to give me a worse time than it had been in prior days, so I looked for a pharmacy in that general direction. I found one and sure enough, when I got there, they had me see their gratis doctor; I was floored.
To be fair, the woman didn’t speak English and didn’t have the right tools to look in my ear, but she had a degree, obviously knew her stuff, and tried her hardest to help me. After some work at communicating we came to the conclusion that something in there was inflamed, but not infected, so I should take paracetamol. Easy!
With that problem solved, I got to the climbing gym and bouldered to my heart’s content! It was fun to try something I do so much at home in a new environment. The grades were very easy comparatively, until you got to v4 (bouldering starts at v0) where every climb seemed to require that you dyno (make a dynamic movement or throw yourself toward the next hold). I was not a fan…
I was, however, a fan of the young woman, Lynn, who walked halfway across the gym to ask my advice on a climb she couldn’t do. She spoke no English, but together, with her boyfriend, we projected the problem. I’d flashed it (did it the first try) and loved getting to work on my Spanish and be helpful (my favorite!). She tried again and again, slowly making progress as I slowly learned climbing terms in Spanish.
After a while, I suggested she take a break and I worked a really hard problem with the encouragement of another local woman, Daphne. While climbing with her, I looked over to see Lynn on the last move of her project! She got to the final hold and searched wildly around the gym for me. We made eye contact and I shouted in excitement, cheering as she pumped one of her arms in the air in celebration. Within moments of coming down off the wall she came over to hug and thank me- the gratitude was mutual. The women supporting women in this gym, even with language barriers, made my heart so happy!
As I went to leave, a massive storm hit. This had happened the night before and apparently was a daily occurrence. I stayed and worked out while I waited it out, watching the torrential downpour from the small, colorful space.
Once it let up, I realized I needed food. Unsure of what to get, I went to a mercado. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been to a Mercado, but oh boy…
I entered and immediately got overwhelmed by noises, smells, and sights. There was stall after stall of food- bread at some, meats hanging in the air and cooking on grills at others, and full kitchens serving meals at the rest. I did a lap, trying to get my bearing and finally just sat down somewhere. Unsure of what to order, I got what the people around me had. It turns out it was a tlayuda, a VERY large tortilla with beans, cheese, meat, and usually tomato and avocado. It was fresh and rich all at the same time and full of flavor. I too was full, too much so to finish the whole thing.
Not wanting to go home so early in the day -it was somehow only 4:30- I looked for a cacao cafe and found the perfect spot to drink the smoothest and tastiest cacao as I read my book for a bit. I stayed there until they closed, finally content to head home.
I’m so glad something in me told me to not go home post-tlayuda, because as I walked back from the cacao cafe I stumbled upon a parade!
People lined the road, bands played, and fireworks were shooting off every which way. I approached an empty spot to get a better view and was delighted to see that the fireworks were all attached to paper mache cows that men and boys were dancing around with on their heads. It was silly and fun. Behind and in front of them were additional men and boys with immense wooden poles with large decorated spheres atop (marmotas). As they spun and danced around, the spheres spun. The parade continued on, with more groups of men with marmotas and dancing women in traditional dress with decorated baskets adorning their heads. Some groups even threw things such as candy, small paper bags with pan dulce, or pieces of fruit.
Turns out the festivities were a convite—a parade that serves as both an announcement and an invitation to the Guelaguetza Festival in Oaxaca. La Guelaguetza is a cultural celebration that celebrates Oaxacan culture through folkloric dances, parades, and food and mezcal tastings. While trying to become more familiar with the celebration - which, unfortunately for me, technically begins the day I fly home- I learned that the word Guelaguetza comes from the Zapotec language and translates to “reciprocal exchange of gifts and services.” This reciprocity and generosity can be seen in so many aspects of their culture already, but I found it especially present during the convites!
That night, riding yet another high, this one from being so close to fireworks and witnessing something so meaningful to the community I’m immersing myself in, I had yet another adorable interaction with Vanessa.
She came up and showed me a whiteboard card with her name printed three times. It clearly had been made to teach her to trace the letters and write her name. She did it once and then erased it and asked me to. I’d noticed that when she did her “e” she started on the top of the curve and therefore ended up with an “o.” When it was my turn, I demonstrated the correct way and then had her practice to try to help her fix this. After just a few tries, she got it!
But then, being her sassy, silly self, she started doing it incorrectly on purpose to get a rise out of me. I’d exclaim “oh no! It’s ‘e’ not ‘o’” and she’d squeal and giggle maniacally. We did this for far too long and then both retired for the night.
The next morning at breakfast she brought me a new book that I couldn’t read, this one about animals and their sounds. After my morning “lesson” with her, I got myself to school and found that Douglas had been moved to a more appropriate (harder) class and his 17 year old daughter, Chloe, had taken his place. A young woman from Oklahoma, Elizabeth, also joined us, rounding out our motley crew.
We reviewed the regular and irregular verbs from the day prior, and started working on reflexive verbs. Miguel meant business and we were flying through things I don’t even remember learning in Spanish 3 in college. All the while, I continued adding to my page dedicated to new vocabulary. It was filling up quickly!
The 3 hours of class hurt my brain and my ego a lot less that day and though I still struggled to put coherent sentences together, I felt myself starting to pick up more vocabulary and sentence structure. There was hope after all!
To treat myself, for lunch I’d booked myself a reservation at a Michelin restaurant that had come highly recommended by a friend back home- Levadura de Olla. Immediately, it became the most attentive anyone has been to me at a restaurant; It was borderline overwhelming. The entire staff greeted me as I came in and was seated, and person after person kept coming to either fill my water, explain a food item, add or remove dishes and utensils, etc. There was a lot going on.
The internet and my friend had ranted and raved about the restaurant’s native tomato plate, so I ordered that as an appetizer and then a pork rib with bean sauce and pickled vegetables.
The tomato plate had 11 different tomato varieties, each with a distinct flavor. It was beautifully presented and reminded me of all the fresh, from-the-vine tomatoes I’ve had in my life. The pork was the best cooked pork of my life thus far, and the bean sauce was beautifully seasoned and well paired with the tender rib meat and tangy pickled veggies. I finished the meal off with a to-die-for sweet cornbread with mango and mint “salsa” and a whipped crema. I understood why people raved about the place!
After a perfect two hours of eating, I headed back to school for my first intercambio, a language exchange set up with a local. Because so many La Guarida students wanted to participate, we got paired up with another student and both chatted with a local. I got paired with Annie, Douglas’ wife.
Unsurprisingly, she was also very fluent and our intercambio felt similar to being one out of three children… and being the one always left out by the other two. Annie and Wendy chatted away and I got a ton of great practice at listening and learning that way. I did not get much talking in; I felt my embarrassment to try quite deeply that hour.
Intercambio was followed immediately by our activity for the day: a tour around the city learning about Oaxaca’s plants! This was led by Antonio, one of the instructors. He took us all over the city, to parks and down alleyways, showing us all of the beautiful flowers, funky trees with spikes on their bark, and many prolific mango and avocado trees.
That evening I got a gym membership (typical), got my sweat on big time (there was no ventilation or fans in this gym), and crashed when I got home. I’d done 6 hours of Spanish and my brain was mush…
Day three of school started out much the same, with a small breakfast and a new book from Vanessa. This morning it was The Very Hungry Caterpillar and I was overjoyed that perhaps I’d understand some of the words since it was a book I was familiar with! Joke was on me- it was in English. This meant I understood all of the words but learned nothing.
Vanessa, to remedy that, took over “reading” and babbled on in fast and loud Spanish, telling me the story as she turned the pages. I caught almost none of it except the food names because she said those at a glacial pace compared to her normal talking.
Once at school, Miguel reviewed the content from the day before and started teaching us about frequency. It became very clear very quickly how essential this piece was for my own personal understanding of Spanish; So many of words and phrases I was being taught that day were words and phrases I’d been hearing in conversation and they’d been causing so much confusion for me. I finally knew them and understood them!
The cherry on top was the end of class, when Miguel surprised us with a juego de mesa (board game)! He put out a grid of cards for a game of memory and we played, matching fruits and then describing the color, texture, and flavor once we’d made a match. My competitive side came out and I dominated, proud of myself for showing Miguel that I was good at something.
After a light market lunch, Elizabeth and I attended the day’s Spanish activity- dance class. For two hours we practiced and learned salsa and cumbia. I’d done both before, and found the entry level pace unstimulating- they often have you dancing alone in lines and doing the steps repetitively to create the muscle memory. Once we paired up, it was a blast! I love dancing and to challenge myself I tried being a lead for the first time. My base knowledge made it easier to not get confused than I had thought, and I thoroughly enjoyed being on the other side of things! I admittedly did not last the entire two hours of dance- I bowed out for cumbia, tired from the day and hungry.
Luckily, Elizabeth and I had plans to meet Michael and a couple Michael had met on his first days of school, Jay and Jap, at Levadura. It was Michael’s birthday and we’d decided to go and do family style to celebrate. This ended up being the perfect way to eat at such a restaurant! We ordered so many different things and were able to experience a variety of flavors and textures. Most notable were:
-the ancestral tamale, which was cooked in avocado leaves and had a delicious tomato-based sauce poured over it
-the chapulines (crickets) with guacamole. They were salty and flavorful, crunchy and high protein, all my favorite things. Fun fact: chapulines have 3x the amount of protein as beef!
-the fried quesadilla with fish. I’m not sure what black magic they did, but it was bursting with flavor and melted in the mouth.
Dessert was my favorite part of the day, as we did something I’ve only been able to do one other time; we ordered the entire menu. I don’t think I want to eat out any other way now… The favorites of the six desserts were:
And already pictured from the day before, but definitely not least, sweet cornbread with mango/mint and crema.
It was a meal to remember with wonderful company. That evening I reveled in how lucky I am to live the life I do, to have the freedom and flexibility to travel the world, and to connect with and learn from people of all walks of life.